


and some of us grow up in a love triangle

by TreesOfAsh



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Mob, Alternate Universe- No Youtube, Dark is not used to kids, Domestic, Dysfunctional Family, Family Secrets, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Kidfic, M/M, Parent-Child Relationship, Underage Drinking, mentions of blood in later chapters, only briefly and not enough to hurt anyone though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2018-10-02 04:01:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10209176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TreesOfAsh/pseuds/TreesOfAsh
Summary: AU. Emma couldn’t remember a time before the House; House was home, and then they moved away.Away from the House.Away from the memories.Away from Dark.When she remembered the House, she remembered Dark. She couldn’t remember a time before either.This is her childhood with both.*title is an excerpt from Raelynn's song Love Triangle.





	1. Prologue

Emma couldn’t remember a time before the House. She could remember the very long driveway, where she learned to ride a tricycle for the first time, and the cozy living room where she and her Daddy had sung along to the Lion King (among many other Disney songs). She’d seen the videos of her first steps, holding onto the immaculate coffee table in the formal sitting room and leaving tiny fingerprints on the glass, so she knew that she had been there since she was very small at least. But she couldn’t remember a time before. She knew that it hadn’t been her house, that her Daddy had never owned it. She still didn’t know, and didn’t care really, if there had been an exchange of rent or a simple understanding. What she did know, was that the House was home, and then they moved away. 

Away from the House.

Away from the memories.

Away from Dark.

When she remembered the House, she remembered Dark. He wasn’t around all the time, despite the fact that she knew the House belonged to him. His visits were sporadic, often short, and rarely mentioned prior to the moment he stepped over the threshold. Emma remembered his immaculate dress, the way he sometimes slung his suit jacket over the back of the chair he was sitting in. The smell of the cigarettes he always smoked, even when he was in the House and even when her Daddy glared at him and told him off for it. The easy smirk and smoke were the only response her Daddy got, but Dark never stopped smoking in the house. Not that she knew of, anyway.

She remembered the guns Dark brought with him, that were taken out of the holster on his hip or under his arm and laid on the table; the piercing stare and quick reflexes that had stopped her from reaching towards it any further, or ever again. Sometimes he came home very late, drops of blood on his dress shirt that she noticed when no one thought she was awake. Dark was quiet. Broody, even, but his stare was intense. Never unkind, perhaps, when in her direction; but never really warm, either. Looking back, perhaps anyone else would find him unnerving or uncomfortable. But he had never given her cause for fear, or anxiety. He was as much a part of her childhood as the House was. She couldn’t remember a time before the House, or before Dark.


	2. Shed

       Emma’s first clear memory of Dark, she thought, had to be watching him shed his outer layers. It wasn’t a single, solitary moment, to be sure; it was something he did every time he stepped in the house. She would run to the foyer doorway, or the top of the stairs to watch between the railing rungs as he started first with his suit jacket, hanging it in the closet or over the back of the chair. His movements would be sharp, precise and measured with a slight scowl set on his face. Next was his shoes, which he slipped off before stepping off of the mat. This made him virtually silent, which always provided Emma with a challenge as she tried to sneak after him without drawing attention to herself. Always, though, she seemed to be as loud as an elephant in comparison (even when she tried wearing three pairs of socks at once to muffle her steps).  
       His next stop would normally be one of two places: the kitchen, or the dining room. If it was the kitchen, he would go immediately to the highest cabinet and pull down a dark coloured bottle and a fat little glass. Sometimes he would put the bottle back after pouring, but other times it would come with him to the dining room table.  
Here, he would sit at the head of the table (always with his back to the wall) and loosen his tie. The top couple buttons would be undone, and his spine would relax a little bit (especially if he made a stop to the kitchen on his way to the table). The dining room was also where he would take off his underarm holster, placing it on the table in front of him before leaning back in his chair. It wouldn’t take too long after this for his features to soften, turning from a rigid statue into a man. His cigarettes would make an appearance soon, the soft blue smoke curling from his mouth or ashtray.  
       He wasn’t always alone in this unofficial ritual. Sometimes he would come in at dinner time, when Emma was already seated and eating at the table. This made it easy for her to watch him, but sometimes he came late at night when she was asleep or very early in the morning, before she woke up to find him in the living room or his study just down the hallway from her room.  
        This was not one of these times. This time, her three year old self was free to carefully climb down the stairs as he passed them on his way to the dining room. Her Daddy would still be in the shower, or his bedroom, and wouldn’t spoil her sneaking practice by speaking to her directly. She peered around the doorway just in time to see Dark slip his holster off his shoulder and place it in its customary place. Instead of sitting back, though, she watched as his eyes scanned over the tabletop. His lips pursed and his eyes narrowed, and she knew he was looking for his cigarettes. Daddy had moved them while he cleaned the kitchen today, tossing them into one of the drawers with some muttered comment she hadn’t heard properly.  
      She only hesitated for a moment before darting into the kitchen, and opening the drawer. Not able to see into properly, she felt around for a moment before her fingers came into contact with the little smooth box. Grasping it, she left the drawer open as she hurried around the corner of the island, only to stop in her tracks. Sometime between now and the doorway, she had stopped being the watcher and turned into the watched. Dark’s gaze was on her now, eyes unblinking and evaluating. She crept forward again, this time slowly, with the package clutched in both hands. Silence rang, interrupted only by her socked feet on the tile floor as she approached the man. Reaching the table, she looked up at him for a moment before offering him her looted goods.  
       He took them immediately, and raised an eyebrow at her. “Daddy cleaned.” She explained. He made a noise in his throat, finally leaning back and bringing a new cigarette to his mouth. After a moment, he dropped his hands and exhaled.  
       “And where is he now?” He asked, looking back down at her. Emma climbed on the bench kitty-corner to him, struggling only a little bit.  
       “In the shower.” She said quietly, sitting on her legs and using her arms as a pillow on the table. Dark was interesting to her, he was a constant inconstant that somehow still felt like he belonged. It was his house too, she knew that, but he was just unfamiliar enough to warrant special attention on the toddler’s behalf. At the time, she had the same instinct all young children have when they know they shouldn’t be doing what they’re doing, but still want to be doing it; they get quiet. And, truth be told, as interesting as Dark was he was still unknown enough to be a little intimidating. She couldn’t remember the last time she had so much one-on-one time with Dark, and especially not before he was able to fully relax.  
Dark didn’t answer her. They watched each other quietly for a few moments, a couple drags coming and going before he finally spoke again.  
       “Don’t you have a bedtime?” Emma looked away, fingernail scratching the tabletop lightly as she debated her answer. Before she could, though, a slightly disapproving voice answered for her.  
       “Yes she does. An’ it was quite a while ago. Why’re you outta bed, baby?” Her Daddy stood in the doorway, in his own pajamas, with his hands on his hips. Her eyes darted over to Dark before looking back over at her Daddy guiltily. He shook his head and in a few short steps had her hoisted off the bench and into his arms.  
       “Say goodnigh’ to Dark, darlin’.” He said as he moved away from the table. She peered over his shoulder and used one hand to wave while the other stifled a yawn. Dark raised the remnants of his cigarette to her as he pulled it from his lips, similar to how one would salute with a glass during a toast, once again exhaling blue tinted smoke.

Later, as she sat perched on the top step, both hands stifling and offending yawns, she would strain to listen to their conversation.  
“She really is enamoured with ya, ya know.”  
“Hm. Stop moving my cigarettes, you asshole.”


	3. Inculcate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't normally write accents, so I hope I didn't butcher this too badly. Non beta'd.

Emma knew that whoever Dark was, whatever he did, he wasn’t alone. Of course, her Daddy and Dark both seemed to be equally determined not to mention any specific names whenever she was listening, and they _always_ seemed to know when she was listening; when she was very little they would spell words out (Dark would roll his eyes more often than not while doing so, but still did it), and when she got old enough to spell herself they moved on to phrases like ‘you-know-who’, ‘the others’, and on particular nights ‘those fucking bastards’.

She had once asked her Daddy what Dark did, and why he wasn’t home very often. He had looked at her for a moment, blinking once or twice before he blurted out: “Public relations”. She had listened to her Daddy tell Dark about the conversation from her perch at the top of the stairs when he came home a few nights later. Dark’s bark of laughter had startled her so badly she had gasped out loud. Her Daddy had quickly ushered her back to her bed, gentle admonishments not enough to make her feel badly about her eavesdropping. It had been the first time she had heard Dark do anything of the sort.

But any effort they put into keeping her out of earshot of Dark’s world was fruitless. Dark’s world would infringe on hers with or without their approval.

 

And it did so first in the form of Anti.

* * *

 

The first memory she had of Anti was mostly foggy. She could remember that she had been in the foyer when he burst in, although doing what she didn’t know. What she did remember was looking up at the tall man, eyes drawn first to the shock of green hair and a broad grin that showed entirely too much teeth. He had cocked his head as he looked down at her, and the skin on his neck had pulled stiffly. The thick scar roped across his neck moved slightly as he spoke.

“Well hello Mouse.”  
She screamed.

After that it got a bit blurry. There was incoherent yelling as her Daddy had run in, and Dark had appeared mere seconds after at the top of the stairs, pistol in hand. She had continued to scream, eyes locked on the grotesque scar even as her Daddy picked her up and whisked her away to the living room, Dark’s raised voice and Anti’s laughter following them.

No sooner had he soothed her screaming into hiccuped sobs then the front door had slammed closed, and the silence seemed entirely too loud.

 

She remembered very little of anything else regarding the impromptu meeting, except for the fact she and her Daddy had watched Disney movies afterwards. Either they didn’t include any singing scenes, or they hadn’t sung along, she didn’t know. But her Daddy had answered a phone call, stepping out of the room. Through the open door she had caught small snippets of the conversation:

“…hell, Dark?”

“Shaken. But she’ll be…”

“How long…gone?”

 

Emma wasn’t sure when she had figured out just who Anti was. Maybe she had asked, or perhaps she had just overheard it. But eventually the knowledge that Anti was Dark’s friend, his partner, someone he worked with, was just another thing she knew about Dark. They were never formally introduced, and he very rarely ever came back to the house after that. When he was, she had never been in the same room as the man for more than glancing seconds before her Daddy was ushering her away (normally in the opposite direction).

* * *

 

The second time she had a peep into Dark's world, it arrived in a flurry of activity, irritation, and pain. She had been woken up by a sharp bang, and her Daddy’s footsteps hurrying down the stairs.

“Dark, what the fook happened?”

“Something went wrong,” a grunt of pain, “we were…expected.”

“Jaysus christ- is that fookin blood?! Where’s Anti?!”

“Dropped him at- at the ER. He’s worse, trust me.”

“And you didn’t think to fookin’ stay there yerself? Ya bloody idiot…”  
The voices trailed off as she heard them leave the foyer, and then the kitchen drawers began snapping open and closed.

She crept out of her bed, and down the stairs as she strained her ears. She could hear someone muttering in the kitchen. She stopped at the bottom of the stairs and peered into the kitchen doorway. Her Daddy was rifling through one of the cupboards with his back to her, and Dark’s usual seat at the table was empty. Chewing her lip, she took a tiny step forward and promptly stepped in something wet. Crouching, she ran her fingers through the tiny red drops on the floor.

“Emma, what are ya doin’ out o’ bed? It’s late.” Her Daddy was now looking at her through his eyelashes as he rummaged through a little white box on the island countertop.

“Where did Dark go?” She asked, sure that was who she had heard.

“He’s in th’ den. Don’t go in there, he’s busy. Back to bed with ye.” He wasn’t looking at her anymore, pulling things out of the kit and rummaging deeper.  
She turned back, and looked down the hallway where light was spilling from a doorway. Slowly she shuffled forward, and stuck her head around the door. Dark was sitting on the ottoman, leaning forward and in a state she had never seen him in before. The layers he normally shed so methodically were in heaps around him; the holster he wore around his shoulders lay abandoned on the floor with his jacket, and his shoes were still on. His hair, normally kept in immaculate place was spilling over his forehead and his tie was nowhere to be seen. The sleeve of his dress shirt was ripped off, and he was clasping one of their dishtowels to his upper arm.

“Dark?” She whispered, and the man looked up at her.

“It’s the middle of the night. Why are you awake?” His words were clipped, but his tone even.

“I heard the door slam.” She blinked, and fidgeted her fingers, rubbing the blood around. His eyes dropped to her hands and narrowed.

“How did you… Never mind. Come here and wipe that off.” She entered the room fully, careful not to trip over the leather of his holster. One hand still clamped on his arm, he reached forward with a slight wince to pluck another off the coffee table. He reached for her hand, turning it palm up before picking the clean towel up again. One handedly he wiped the blood off her fingertips.

“Do you have any on you anywhere else?” He asked, and she nodded, lifting her foot a little. He sighed, a deep sound.

“Sit on the coffee table.” Once she had settled herself, he reached for her ankle. She shuffled forward a little as he placed her foot on his knee. Leaning back a little he rubbed the towel over her heel, gently increasing pressure as he tried to wipe it off.

“Emma, I told ya to go back to bed, baby.” Daddy came in with a bowl of bandages and the things, and a bowl of water. “Is she alrigh’?”

“She’s fine. Stepped in a bit of blood in the hallway. Let me have some of that.” Dark brandished the towel he was using to wipe her foot clean, shifting a little to dip it in the water before swiping it on her foot again.

“Are you okay Dark?” She asked quietly, looking at the button on his shirt. Her Daddy paused his unpacking of the bowl to look at her.

“He’ll be alrigh’, baby. Don’ worry. Come on, let’s get ya back ta bed.” Her eyes flicked up to Dark’s face as she slipped off the table. He was looking at her, eyebrows furrowed a little.

“I’m fine, Emma. Just a bit of a scratch.” He said slowly, straightening in his seat. She chewed her lip before nodding. A scratch might be scary sometimes, but her teacher had explained to her class that it accidents happen sometimes, and that Nick shouldn’t run with scissors anymore.

“Mr. Bishop says stitches don’t hurt. The doctor makes you all numb.” She said, thinking of what her teacher had said to calm Nick down.

Dark stared at her for a moment, before his lips twitched. His eyes flicked to Daddy, who chuckled and picked her up.

“Come on luv.”

“Goodnight Emma.” She let her chin rest on Daddy’s shoulder, suddenly feeling very tired again.

“Night Dark. Feel better!”

* * *

 

The next morning Daddy had explained that while Dark was okay, she shouldn’t tell anyone what she had seen. Not because it was wrong, or bad, he explained, but because it was private. She had shrugged and nodded, attention drawn to Dark’s appearance in the living room doorway. He looked as though last night had never happened, in his usual dress shirt and pants. She couldn’t see anything wrong with his arm, even as he lifted it to light a cigarette. He had stayed with them for an entire episode of her cartoon, flicking through his phone and not saying anything as she climbed onto the other end of the couch, before getting up and leaving again.

The blood in the hallway was gone too.

 


	4. Filch Pt. One

Emma’s kidnapping was strange in the way that she didn’t know it was a kidnapping at first.Her eight year old self had merely thought she was lucky enough to visit her teacher’s home. And aside from dropping things more than usual (Ms. McLean was known to break more chalk sticks than any other teacher in the school), Ms. McLean had seemed liker her normal self.

* * *

 

Ms. McLean turned on the television, and let Emma help herself to two slices of cake instead of dinner. She didn’t sit with Emma to watch cartoons, instead choosing to hover by the living room window and fiddle with her phone when she wasn’t helping Emma change the channel or refilling her juice cup.

Emma wasn’t paying attention as her teacher left the room to talk; after all, her Daddy always said she had to stop eavesdropping and Spongebob was on anyways. But then Ms. Mclean was flicking the television off and ushering Emma down the hallway and into the bathroom, eyes wide and her face white. She looked like the ghost she had dressed up as at the class’ Hallowe’en party, where her face was caked with white paint to match her sheet dress. Emma was just opening her mouth to tell her that when the front door opened and closed with a quick snap.

“Stay here and be quiet, Emma!” she said, and then Ms.McLean was off again, leaving Emma in the small bathroom. For a moment, she wondered if it was some sort of hide-and-seek game, like they had played at recess. Beyond the door, she could hear Ms. McLean and a man talking, getting increasingly louder. This didn’t sound like a game, and it certainly didn’t sound good. Her ears pricked as the voices got closer, and even louder. Her scalp tingled, and she felt a bit of a rush as she got into the bathtub and closed the shower curtain, desperate for a little bit of cover. Running her fingers over the faucet, trying to concentrate on the grooves of the screws holding the faucet cover on instead of what was now clearly yelling, she let out a yelp and jumped when the door crashed open and bounced off the wall.

“Jonathon don’t- you’ll scare her- just let me...!” Ms. McLean was saying, voice shrill and wavering.

“Do you think we have time for your coddling, woman?! They’ll be here soon, we have to move!” came an unfamiliar voice.

The shower curtain made a screech as it was forcefully opened, and Emma’s eyes widened as she stared at man towering over her. His grey hoodie was stained, and he had stubble spreading across his chin that was almost a beard.And he stank of smoke, almost like Dark but so thick it seemed to fill the entire room.

Emma pressed herself back into the tiles, and screamed as the strange man reached in to pick her up. He was growling something at her that she couldn’t hear over the rushing in her ears. Ms.McLean was saying something too, pleading for something or to someone, but Emma ignored her to thrash and wriggle against the uncomfortably tight grip. The man had one arm around her chest, squeezing in an attempt to hold onto her.

And then they were moving.

Out of the bathroom, and continuing further down the hall they entered the kitchen.

Where ‘Jonathan’ uttered a curse, and Ms. McLean whimpered.

“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth, Mr. Lutz?” Came a cold drawl from the shadow beside the sink. A tiny red flicker brightened momentarily, before a small stream of smoke drifted into the light cast in from the window. Emma stopped her thrashing and squinted at the figure, eyes beginning to water.

Dark stepped forward, flicking the ash off his cigarette and onto the floor. “It doesn’t matter, I suppose. It won’t be happening again.” Taking one last drag, he dropped the cigarette on the floor and ground it into the linoleum.

“Tell me. What did you think to achieve with this little stunt? Did you really think we’d play by your...rather pathetic...rules? That you’d pull this off and.... what? Ride of into the sunset with your _lovely_ lady?” Dark drawled, cracking his neck fluidly. The arm arm across her chest tightened further as Jonathon tensed, and she whimpered, eyes screwed up as she tried her hardest not to cry. She hated how it made her nose run, but she couldn’t stop thinking of how she wanted to be home with her Daddy and not here, with this stinky man who was making it hard for her to breath.

“If you don’t let us leave then you’re not going to like what I do to the little girl.” Jonathon growled, and Ms. McLean whimpered, sliding into one of the kitchen chairs.

Dark’s lips twisted into a sneer. “No, Mr. Lutz. You see, we’re not by playing your rules anymore. This fiasco was finished the moment I stepped into this house. So you’re going to put the girl down or… how did you say it? You’re not going to like what happens to you.”

“What are you going to do if I don’t? You don’t even have a gun!” Jonathon spat, his words falling flat as his voice shook.

“He doesn’t. But I do.” The words were punctuated with the heavy click of a gun being cocked behind them. Emma felt the man tense, and she whimpered again, eyes blurring with tears. She recognized Anti’s voice, but didn’t have it in her to care about the scary man as much as getting to safety. To Dark, first, and then Daddy and Home and bed and her favourite stuffed Pooh Bear and…and… she sniffled hard as some tears escaped.

Ms. McLean’s chair scraped as she stood up, breathing shakily. Emma couldn’t see her properly out of the corner of her eye, but Dark raised his eyebrow and smirked.

“What do you think you’re going to do with that?” He asked, and she swallowed.

“Y-You’re going to let us go. Y-you can have E-Emma back, but we’re le-leaving. Or I..I’ll sh-shoot you.”

Anti cackled. “Oh you will, will you? Great shot, are you? Go ahead and try, and I’ll blow your boyfriend’s brains out before you can move your finger!”

Emma’s eyes burned and she bit her tongue, which didn’t help stifle the beginning of a sob. With her eyes shut, she didn’t see the way Ms. McLean flinched, or the way Dark slid his hands into his pockets. But she heard when he said “Fine. Anti.”, Ms. McLean’s shaky exhale, and the dull thunk of metal hitting wood.

“Maggie, don’t lower that gun- this is a trap! I don’t believe it!” Jonathon snarled, and Emma clenched her eyes even tighter.

“Come now, Mr. Lutz, don’t be moronic. I have better places to be than here, listening to your pathetic attempts to posture. Put the girl down.”

One heartbeat. Two. On the third, Emma’s feet hit the floor and she opened her eyes. She took a couple steps before Dark stepped forward and redirected her towards the back door. She wanted to look over her shoulder at her teacher, but Dark blocked her view and then they were outside in the cold air.

They had taken three steps down the path before a shrill scream was cut off in the house.

Emma froze, and her legs suddenly seemed very shaky. The cake she had eaten felt too heavy in her stomach. Her arms were sore where Jonathon’s had clenched around her, and her eyes burned and her nose was leaking and the rushing sounds in her ears stopped and it all seemed like too much. She wanted to be home, and she wanted her Daddy. She burst into tears, sobs heaving out of her.

“Goddamit, Anti…” Dark muttered, bending to lift her in one fell swoop. She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her head in them as he swept them out of the back yard and into the alley. Emma realized later that was the first time she could ever remember being held by Dark, who had never been generous with touch outside of the necessary. But he had lifted her onto his hip with little trouble, supporting her in a way her Daddy had said she was getting too heavy for.

She heard crunching on the gravel and tensed up, a sharp whine coming out of the back of her throat. Dark put his hand on the back of her neck and turned.

“Anti. Is it done?”  
“As a doorknob, Boss. Ty-“

“Anti.”  
“Heh. _The guys_ will start the cleanup as soon as we’re out.”

“Good. Get in the car, you’re driving.” And they were moving again; Dark reaching forward to open a car door, and then leaning as if to put her down- she shrieked a little and held on, unwilling to let go of the only thing she knew was safe. Dark’s hands pried hers off of his neck and pushed her backwards onto the seat, careful despite his firm grip. She didn’t have a long time to get upset, however, as he stepped in and sat on the seat next to her. She snuffled and wiped her nose on her arm, which didn't help staunch anything at all. As the car pulled forward into the alleyway, she leaned forward to climb back onto his lap. He didn’t resist, stiffly wrapping an arm around her waist.

“Emma.” She didn’t look up at him, smooshing her face into his suit jacket.

“Emma. Look at me.” He tried again, and she leaned back to blink at him. She was snuffling and hiccuping, but the sobbing had come quick, hard, and didn’t stay long.

“Are you hurt anywhere?” He asked, and she shook her head quickly, eager to get the conversation over with so she could lean against him again.

“Don’t lie to me, please.”  
“Ooooh since when do you say ‘please’?” Anti goaded from the front seat, and Emma flinched.

“Shut up, Anti. Emma.” Dark barely spared the other man a glance. She met Dark’s eyes, rubbing at one of her own.

“My arms.”

“From where he was holding you?” She nodded, and her breath hitched with another hiccup.

“Alright. Try to relax. You’ll be home soon.” He said, and she leaned forward again. He smelt like he always did; a little smoky, and like Home. 

* * *

 

How long it took to get back Home, she didn’t know. She may have fallen asleep on the way. But however long it took, she was immediately relieved when she and Dark entered the light filled foyer. She was slumped against him, supported by his forearms and very tired. She lifted her head a bit at the silence, looking for her Daddy. But Dark put his hand on the back of her head to guide it back down as he climbed the stairs. It could have been to keep her quiet, or as a reassurance, but she didn’t bother trying to fight it.

He opened a door to a room she didn’t recognize.

“Dark ya bloody bastard! How dare you! I- Oh lord Emma. Oh Baby come ‘ere.” And suddenly there was her Daddy, warm and loud and concerned and everything she had always run to when frightened. She reached for him and Dark let her go immediately. Amidst the cooing, bouncing, and hugging she heard her Daddy say something to Dark over her crying.

“This isn’ over, Dark, we’re not done talkin’ about this!” And then he stalked out of the room with her wrapped tightly in his arms.


	5. Filch Pt. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta'd. PLEASE read the notes at the end of the chapter.  
> I wrote this instead of sleeping...

Jack had never thought Dark would take the place of Emma’s second parent. Not when he had called Dark in one of his lowest moments, screaming newborn in one arm and overnight bag under the other. And not at any other moment. He knew his relationship with Dark wasn’t one anyone would have called domestic, and he had half-expected Dark to hang up as soon as he heard the crying in the background. But instead he had told Jack that he knew where to find him, and that he’d have a room cleared out.

He hadn’t shown the least bit of interest in the baby beyond the basics- age, mother, and was there a messy breakup they had to deal with? Permanently?

Jack had huffed out a laugh without any real humour at that. To anyone else it would have seemed like either an off-coloured joke or a red flag, but in the circles he had never seemed to shake completely? It would be almost irresponsible not to ask, if a friend was in a bad spot. Affection in a grey scale of threats, promises, and bodily harm.

But no, there was no reason for him to take the other man up on his offer. Emma’s mother had made it perfectly clear that she wanted no part in any part of it. Emotions were messy, but the break was clean. Which was more than he could say for his relationship with Dark, but it seemed that was going to remain unsaid.

And for a while that had been all there was to the situation. Dark was very rarely home, and what Jack had first planned on being a temporary stay eventually stretched long enough both men knew it was more than a stop over trip. Neither of them had brought up their relationship status, or how they left it. And so Emma had grown up on the fringes of a world her father had tried to leave years earlier, in the home of a man who was essentially a lord of organized crime.

Jack knew it was dangerous. He knew who Dark was, how that world operated and what a tempting target Emma would be to Dark’s enemies- but within the safety of the property, within the house itself, it was easy enough for him to push the alarm to the back of his mind. Emma was growing up happy and loved (and well-adjusted, Jack hoped), even if she existed in a place that was constantly walking a tight rope between being either the most secure or most dangerous.

And Dark had changed for her-for them- whether he knew it consciously or not. He was still the most dangerous man in the underworld, but he had stopped bringing work home, so to speak. Things such as meetings with associates that had once been conducted in Dark’s study, meetings Jack himself had been privy to once, were now held at other locations. As Emma had grown, they had taken to masking some of their conversations in the typical ways; however, Jack was quite sure the words most other parents were spelling weren’t ‘dead’, ‘assassination’, and ‘Anti’.

Regardless, he had been lulled into a false sense of security and he had paid dearly for it.

* * *

 

“Ye locked me in yer room, Dark! While my daughter was missin’! That’s not okay! That’s the furthest thing from okay!” He was yelling. He didn’t mean to be yelling, he had only just got Emma to sleep and her bedroom was so close to the study, but the panic had yet to fade. “Ye had no right!”

“No right? No right? You were too emotional, Jack. You would have jeopardized the entire operation.” Dark was on the other side of the desk, hands gripping the back of his chair. His voice was level, but intense, the only indication Jack could hear of the other man’s rising temper.

“She’s my daughter, not an operation! She needed me and ye just- ye just-“  
“I saved her! I had the problem eliminated, and I ensured it will never happen again. A ‘thank you’ wouldn’t be amiss.” Dark bit out, and the leader squeaked under his fingers.

“But ye can’t, Dark, ye can’t promise me that! This entire nightmare can happen all over again and- and- Jaysus I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner!”

Dark stiffened, and something shifted in his eyes. They narrowed, and he stalked around the desk to stand toe to toe with Jack with his hands clasped behind his back.

Leaning down, he hissed “Do you want an apology, Jack? Do you want me to apologize for her kidnapping? Because that wasn’t my fault. And her exposure to our world? Apologies- _my world_ , since you seem so set on insisting you’re not in it anymore. You called me. You came here. You stayed. What happened tonight could have been worse if it wasn’t for me. For your brother. Who committed murder for both of you tonight, by the way.”

For a moment the silence felt heavy, dark brown eyes connecting with bright blue ones in a tense stare. And then the door creaked open.

Emma peered around the edge, eyes watery and cheeks ruddy from crying. She had just barely started to say ‘Daddy’ before Jack had her in his arms again, leaving the door wide open out of spite. If Dark wanted it closed again he could close it himself.

* * *

 

It was over an hour later when Emma fell asleep again, curled up against his chest. The yelling had made her upset all over again, and she was still hiccuping in her sleep. Jack sighed and leaned back in the rocking chair, closing his eyes. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been this exhausted.

No, wait. He could.

Emma had been months old, and sick with her first bad ear infection. The doctor had given him antibiotics, recommended warm compresses and pain relievers, and then left to see to the next runny nose. He had spent sleepless hours trying to soothe her crying, almost in tears himself, drifting through the large empty house. Dark had been out on a…business trip, and eventually he had given up and called the man in exhausted frustration.

 

_“Don’t come home tonight.” Jack warned, phone between his ear and his shoulder. Emma was in her bounce cot, wailing._

_“Excuse me?” Dark said, and Jack could hear the beginning pricks of irritation. ‘Guess the job wasn’t going easily’, he thought._

_“If ye were comin’ home tonight, don’t. Emma’s ill, been screamin’ her head off for hours. Ye won’t like it. Don’t come home.” he pressed the button with more malice than strictly necessary, nerves frayed. He popped an ear plug into his right ear (thank god Dark hadn’t stopped storing the firearms accessories in the bottom drawer of his desk) and settled her head on his shoulder, beginning yet another tour of the house._

 

_He had just finished putting more drops in her ears when a large hand clasped his shoulder. He wheeled around with a yell, fists flailing before he could see who it was. Dark caught his wrists before they could land, and raised an eyebrow at him. Jack reached up to pull the earplugs out (long ago realizing just one isn’t as good as two) and flinched at the full volume of Emma’s lungs._

_“You look like shit.” Dark stated, and Jack glared._

_“I told ye not to come home.”Dark looked down at the squalling baby on the counter, completely ignoring Jack’s comment._

_“What’s wrong with her?”_

_“Her ears hurt. Antibiotics for the infection, but she’s still in pain. Has been for hours now. Why are ye here? What about the negotiations?” Jack said, voice straining over an enthusiastic wail. He sounded tired even to his own ears._

_“They made it easy by pulling a gun. Anti made it easier by shooting them. Go take a shower, you’re rancid.” Dark ordered, and reached down to lift Emma up with a precision Jack had seen him use before with firearms. He stared at him stupidly, mouth open._

_“How did ye- can ye- what?” The glare Dark sent his way was truly astounding. Not willing to look a gift horse in the mouth, Jack practically ran up the stairs. Emma’s crying was distant in the bathroom, and completely gone with the water rushing over his head. He felt a twinge of guilt, though whether it was for leaving his screaming daughter or leaving Dark with his screaming daughter, he wasn’t sure. But he was fairly certain she wouldn’t be any worse off with the other man for the few moments he could steal for the sake of hygiene. Still, he rushed through his shower routine and sat on the edge of his bed, towelling his hair dry. He glanced at his pillow, then the door. Surely he could snatch a minute or two…_

 

_…He woke up with a start, sunlight streaming in the window that had previously shown a sky just beginning to lighten up when he had put his head down._

_Fuck._

_He jumped up, feeling refreshed in a very guilty way, and was already moving down the hallway when he realized he couldn’t hear anything._

_Anything._

_Picking up speed, he poked his head into the nursery. The crib was empty. Moving down the hall, so was Dark’s study. As was Dark’s bedroom. Jack trotted down the stairs, sticking his head into the kitchen as he passed by. Nothing there either. He reached the living room, and stopped dead._

_Dark was spread across the couch, half reclined against the arm rest. And in the arms of the man who had more blood on his hands than he had any right to, who had ordered the trigger pulled on so many men, was Emma. Fast asleep, and bundled in one of her cotton blankets. One of her tiny fists was clutching the hem of Dark’s dress shirt, which was now unbuttoned at the top and wrinkled badly. A half empty pack of cigarettes was on the coffee table beside them._

_“How did ye…” Jack trailed off, mouth open. Dark closed his eyes again and put his head back._

_“Smoke in the ears. Helps numb the pain.” He said, and his voice seemed to echo in the silence despite the low tone._

_“Ye were blowing smoke in her ears? Since when do ye know how ta soothe babies?” Jack asked, and Dark’s lips twitched into something vaguely resembling a frown. He didn’t answer, and he also didn’t stop Jack from picking the baby up off of him._

_Jack had went back to the living room after putting Emma in her crib, but Dark wasn’t there._

* * *

 

Dark had returned to whatever he was working on the next day, but left the cigarettes behind. That had resulted in a smoking habit that had taken Jack longer than he cared to admit to break, but thankfully the infection and the better part of the pain had gone quickly after that and they weren’t needed.

Jack sighed. Sure, he hadn’t expected Dark to pick up parenting, hadn’t expected him to care. And the crime lord hadn’t stepped into a parenting role, but he had offered a modicum of support for Jack in the moments where he was at his wits end. Just as he had done tonight.

That grey scale of affection might not have been coloured the way society usually accepted, but it was affection all the same. Dark wasn’t her parent, and he wasn’t Jack’s anymore, but he cared. He had fixed the problem before it became a disaster, and despite his rather unkind methods he had kept Jack from doing something stupid and desperate.

But it was because of that life that Emma had been targeted. Jack bit his lip and shifted Emma in his arms, moving her into her bed. He brushed the hair out of her face, smiling sadly.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he was in the study again. The room was empty. Moving down the hall, he knocked on Dark’s bedroom door. He counted three heartbeats before it opened, and suddenly Dark was filling the doorway. Shirtless, he was in his boxers. Jack’s eyes roamed, running over the new scars Dark had acquired since the last time Jack had seen so much of his skin, before meeting the dark brown ones.

“We’re leaving.” Jack whispered.

“I know.”

And then Dark was kissing him, hands gripping his hair, and their teeth clashing.

Their usual goodbyes, then. The heartbreak tasted the same as it did last time too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. So please, for the love of god, do not use Dark's infant pain relief methods without first consulting a doctor. Really he shouldn't have done so without talking to one first either, but it's Dark. He's a crime lord. He does all sorts of unadvised shit.  
> Be smarter than Dark.


	6. Out of Memories He Falls Pt 1

The music in the warehouse-turned-club was loud, and the multicoloured lights flashed in time to it. Some dub-step type thing that had no lyrics, just beats you could grind your hips to. It wasn’t Emma’s regular taste, but she had gotten in. Finally. After a few months of tracking down a way to get a realistic fake (something that didn’t claim she was 32, thanks Devon), she was finally in. Her first club, somewhere her friend Savannah claimed was off the hook. It was also far enough away from her neighbourhood that her Dad wouldn’t be able to find her on accident. Not that he ever went to places like this anyways; he and Mark were normally Netflix-and-Sleep kinda guys.

Emma tugged on the hem of her crop top. Also, not her regular taste but was apparently all the rage with Savannah’s older sisters, so there she was. Her fingers itched to do up the zipper on her faux leather jacket, but of course it had been checked. Savannah rolled her eyes and swatted at her hands.

“Leave it, Em You look fine, and if you get us chucked out of my favourite club I’m telling Mr. Sanders who really fucked the bunsen burner up last week, you sissy.” She hissed, and grabbed Emma’s wrist to pull her to the bar. Ten minutes later they were lounging on some uncomfortable plastic stools sipping on coolers. Twenty minutes later and the alcohol had kicked in and Emma stopped fussing with her top. Thirty minutes and areally disgusting shot later and they were on the dance floor, bobbing and weaving and laughing.

Forty five minutes later and a hand closed around Emma’s upper arm.

Jerking, she looked over her shoulder at a scar that stood out against an otherwise slim, pale neck. Her eyes flipped up, and she took in the bright and slightly wild blue eyes and the shock of green hair that lit up brighter with the strobe lights. Her scalp tingled and the hair on the back of her arms raised.

“You…!” She gasped, and out of the corner of her eye she watched as Savannah bolted away, into the crowd. Anti cocked his head, and his teeth seemed bright in his shark grin.

“Hello, Mouse.”

And then he was tugging her through the crowd, away from the direction Savannah had bolted in and away from the dance floor. She tried to squirm away, pulling on her arm and scratching his wrist but he didn’t seem to even blink. If anything, he seemed amused as he grinned at her and readjusted his grip around her wrist. They passed a couple of guys she assumed were nicely-dressed bouncers, and he tugged her up a flight of stairs.

“Would you let me go?!” She snapped, yanking fruitlessly. He pushed her into a room at the top, and she stumbled slightly as he closed the door and locked it with a quiet _shnck_.

“What the hell are you doing here? Let me go.” She said, and backed away from him a couple steps clutching her sore wrist to her chest. Her stomach had long since dropped, and she immediately regretted agreeing with Sav about sneaking out tonight. Anti sent her a smirk, and she felt a wave of cold wash over her as she watched his eyes move to look at something over her head. There was someone behind her. She whirled around, eyes wide and heart slamming in her chest.

Standing there, dressed in a black suit and tie, was Dark. He looked the same as she remembered, with maybe a few more lines in his face. But his eyes remained as clear as they did when she was small, and she immediately felt like he was scrutinizing both her mind and her face.

“Now, if my memory is correct… _and it always is_ …you’re a little young to be here.” He said, and her face coloured. She crossed her arms around her bared stomach and looked at his shoes, but didn’t answer him.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, and she shrugged, “Emma. Answer me.”

She scowled at him. “Why do you even care?” She snapped, and he sighed irritably. Stalking forward, he gripped her shoulder firmly and directed her towards a leather chair. “Sit.” His voice brooked no arguments, and she sat.  
“Anti, get her jacket.” He said, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

“They won’t give it to you without the ticket.” She warned, but Anti’s stride didn’t pause. He just threw a cheery ‘Yes they will’ over his shoulder, and then he was gone.

“Jack.” Dark said, and her head snapped to him, jaw dropping when she saw the phone pressed against his ear. He had called her Dad!

“You never changed it…Where do you think Emma is right now?… No, she’s with me… At The Nest… Yes… With a friend, I believe… No, go to the house. There’s some unsavoury associates here tonight…Yes.” And then he hung up without saying a proper goodbye. He turned around and looked at her.

“You shouldn’t be here, it’s dangerous. Come, we’re leaving now.” And he strode passed, leaving her to try and catch up with him.

* * *

Instead of leaving through the front doors, as Emma had come in, they avoided the main club completely and left through the kitchen. When they stepped out into alley, she was surprised to see a black car waiting there, with Anti leaning against it. Dark tossed him the keys, and opened the back door for her. She hesitated, and he raised an eyebrow. She got in, and found her jacket on the seat. She quickly slipped it on and zipped it up all the way as Dark got in after her. 

For a little while, she watched the city fade into residential areas, and then suburbs, and the car was silent. There was a small voice in the back of her head questioning her decision to get into the car, as if she would have stood any chance against either of them if she had tried to run. Anti had gotten a little rough with her, but he didn’t seem like the kind of guy who did anything ‘softly’, she argued with herself. And she didn’t feel like she was in any danger… At least, not after she had seen Dark. She felt like he was familiar… a little distant, sure, but he had always been like that. He also felt like something she couldn’t place. Something she didn’t recognize was sitting in her chest, but she didn’t dwell on it.

“My friend, Savannah-“ She started, breaking the silence.

“She was already in her car and gone by the time we got to the room.” Anti interrupted her, bright eyes flashing in the rear-view mirror. She was both surprised and unsurprised, and a little hurt that her friend had high-tailed it so quickly without even trying to see if she was alright. Blinking away furious tears, she turned to Dark. He met her stare, and didn’t comment on her watering eyes; for that she felt a bit grateful.

“You said it was dangerous. Why? I wasn’t in any danger and I didn’t put any of my drinks down without watching them.” She said, wiping her eyes roughly.

“Everyone in that club was at risk, not just you.” He replied, and she rolled her eyes.

“Why? Because you were there?” She snapped without thinking. He looked at her for a moment, and just as she was beginning to really regret her outburst, he said

“Because I was meeting with some truly unfavourable characters not fifteen minutes before Anti spotted you. Because if those characters had their interests…sparked…by anyone in that building, that person would never have been the same. And the daughter of Jack McLoughlin would have been very interesting indeed.”

She wanted to ask why. It was on the tip of her tongue, alcohol pushing it forward. But something deeper stopped her. She didn’t want to know, not really. She didn’t want to know why her relationship with her Dad was so interesting…didn’t want to know why, after they moved, he had dyed her hair and his hair and completely changed his hairstyle. Didn’t want to know why even trips to the grocery store took twice as long at first because he wanted to ‘take the scenic route’ home. Why she went to see a therapist twice a week for a couple years, why her new school had a lock on the front gates and insisted on IDing parents at pickup even though all the teachers knew who her Dad was.

She knew why. She just didn’t want to hear it.

So she stayed quiet, and looked out the window until things became familiar again. Until she could close her eyes and count how many turns until the car began to slow down and eventually stop. When she opened her eyes, she saw Home.


	7. Solicitude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so a couple notes here.   
> 1) I wrote this instead of sleeping and probably did a half ass job at editing, so please keep that in mind if you run across a non-conforming awkward sentence.   
> 2) In the interest of not spoiling anything here, please read the other note at the end of the chapter.  
> 3) bit of fluff there at the end. As much as can be in a Darklipler story, anyways.

The inside of the house had hardly changed. The same dark, polished hardwood floors met the staircase exactly where she remembered it (although her memories made the steps seem so much wider). Through the archway she could see the white kitchen counters and their marble tops. Though she couldn’t see the fridge, she wondered if Dark still kept his liquor in the same place.

“Stay here. I’ll be right back.” Dark toed off his shoes and shrugged his suit jacket off. She recognized the harness wrapped around his shoulders, which seemed a little more worn than in her memories. He slid the guns out of their holsters as he walked away, removing the magazines and checking their chambers.

As he disappeared around the corner, she felt a coldness creep over her that had nothing to do with the crop top under her thin jacket. She bit her lip and took a few steps forward, shoes echoing on the floor. She looked over her shoulder, down the hallway, as she stepped onto the staircase. It was dark, save for the light that cut a path from the door Dark had just opened.

She turned around again, and climbed the staircase slowly. Nostalgia bit at her heels as she passed her childhood lurking spot at the top, but the cold lump in her chest didn’t cease.

The upstairs hallway was much the same as the downstairs one; dark, but she didn’t reach out to flip the switch she knew was on her right side, by the bathroom door. Instead, she placed her hand on the wall and counted the doors until she reached the one she was looking for.

There was a slight creak as she pushed it open and reached out to flip the lights on. She felt the chilly tension behind her sternum ease and finally release as she took it in.

Her room, just as she remembered it. There were some minor changes, of course. The mattress was bare, for example, and it was suspiciously tidier than she ever remembered leaving it. But otherwise, everything was still in its place as her Dad had left it. The apartment was much smaller than Home, so they weren’t able to bring all her toys, or the furniture because the apartment was already furnished. So a few of her dolls still sat on her shelf, next to the picture books she had long outgrown, and the rocking chair still stood tall in the corner beside the window. Drawings she didn’t remember scribbling still framed the walls.

Had Dark really not touched it? She didn’t remember a lot of visitors coming in, aside from Anti, but she had thought that maybe.... something would have changed. He could have reverted the room back to whatever it was before it was her nursery.

“Generally, ‘stay here’ means the spot where I left you.” She jumped, dropping the doll she had plucked from the shelf.

They stared at each other for a moment.

“Sorry.” She muttered, picking it back up and straightening its hair. She looked back up at him, very aware that she didn’t live there anymore.

“It’s...uh... very clean in here.” She said, cringing at the awkward sentence. Dark raised his eyebrow.

“I have a maid come through once a week.”

“Why didn’t you change it?” She asked, very nearly cutting him off. Her cheeks flamed; whatever verbal control she had retained in the car had seemed to leave her.

“I didn’t see the need.” He said, gesturing her to follow him as he walked away. She only just remembered to turn the light off again in her haste to follow him. She bit her tongue as several questions spun around her slightly-fuzzy brain. What need? Why not? I don’t understand- explain?

Instead, she followed him back downstairs and sat at the table where he pointed, and sipped at the water he put in front of her.

He sat at the head of the table and loosened his tie. She watched quietly as he lit a cigarette-one from a red box, not the blue ones she remembered-and took a long drag. It was quiet for several long moments, even as the grandfather clock in the living room chimed one o’clock in the morning.

It felt familiar, sitting together like they had when she was little. Safe, even.She felt a little looser than she had earlier in the evening, tension beginning to bleed out of her bones and mind. Whether that was from being around Dark and whatever associated safety she felt, or from the alcohol, she wasn’t too sure.

“Why were you at the Nest this evening?” He asked quietly, exhaling smoke. She didn’t look at him, taking a small sip of water and then Fidgeting with her nails.

“It...Sav- my friend, she said it would be fun. That it would be better than going to the movies.”

“Is that where your father thinks you were?” A guilty pang in her chest.

“I told him I was going out with Savannah and then sleeping at her house.” She whispered. She didn’t make a habit of lying to her Dad- as a matter of fact, this had been the first time. When she had asked permission to stay at Sav’s, she had thought for sure he would know she was lying. That the entire world would see a ‘Liar coming through!’ sign stuck to her forehead. But he hadn’t. And so she had gone. And now she was here, whispering her way through a confession to a man who, had she asked him for permission instead of her Dad, would have know she was guilty of something probably the second she stepped into the room.

Dark didn’t say anything, merely hummed.

It was quiet for a little while longer, and her eyes started to droop. Right around the time Dark finished his cigarette, she was stifling yawns. Dark reached forward to snub out what was left of his cigarette into the ashtray and stood.

“Come with me.”

“Where?” She asked, following suit. Dark raised an eyebrow- obviously a man who wasn’t questioned often.

“It’s going to take a little while longer for your father to get here. You can sleep in his room until he does.” This bed was already made up, and Dark opened one of the dresser drawers, only to hand her a band t-shirt. It was her turn to raise an eyebrow at him.

“I didn’t think this was your kind of fashion.”

“It belonged to your father.” He stated dryly, turning to leave. The door was just about to shut when she called out to him again.

“Goodnight!” He paused, hand on the doorknob.

“Goodnight, Emma. Sleep well.”

Sleep well. Her Dad was always exuberant with his ‘sweet dreams!’ ‘Don’t let the bedbugs bite!’ And ‘sleep tight’s. But in the handful of times that Dark had ever actually said anything to her at bedtime beyond goodnight-if he acknowledged it at all-was ‘sleep well’.She slid into the shirt and then into the bed, wondering for a few moments what her Dad was going to do when he got there.

 

* * *

 

_When she woke up, the shadows in her room seemed to consume it. Her nightlight had burnt out- probably because it was years old- but to her child mind (and logic) it was obviously because of monsters. Monsters that were big, and dark, and hid in shadows and under beds to gobble up little girls in the middle of the night._

_Monsters that, according to that logic, were probably lurking under her bed and- what was that noise? A growl?!_

_Emma leapt from the bed, her scalp tingling and goosebumps prickling her arms, and ran to the nearest source of light. A faint glow under the bedroom door. It took her a moment to get the door to open, fingers fumbling on the knob, but as soon as she did she was racing down the hall towards the strip of light shining out of an open doorway._

_It wasn’t until she was in the middle of this strip of light that she dared look over her shoulder. To her, the hallway had never looked so dark and scary. She couldn’t even see her own doorway, let alone the monsters that lurked there. Was that little gleam a doorknob or a pair of eyes, staring at her, ready to leap at her the second she got too close to the shadows? She trembled._

_She also nearly jumped out of her skin when someone cleared their throat from just outside of her vision._

_She spun, a sharp whine beginning in the back of her throat before she noticed who it was and where she was standing. The light was spilling out of Dark’s office, a door that was normally tightly closed and locked, and the man himself was sitting behind the desk facing her. He had a pen in his hand, smoke curling from the ashtray, and a glass of amber liquid by his elbow. His desk lamp filled the room with that wonderful, warm light she had been so desperate to find. He shifted the papers on his desk, staring at her. She hadn’t even known he had come home. He certainly wasn’t there before she went to bed._

_“Why are you awake?” He asked quietly, voice just loud enough to carry across the room. She shrugged, suddenly very shy. His lips pursed for a moment, and he took a firm drag of his cigarette. A few seconds later he exhaled, blowing it away from his face._

_“It’s three o’clock in the morning. Did you have a nightmare?” He asked, and she blinked. Images from a dream she had now forgotten drifted to the forefront of her mind- shark teeth in a wide grin, too wide, and a thick scar. She nodded, and looked over her shoulder at the dark hallway._

_“There are monsters in my room.” She whispered, and he blinked._

_“There are no such things as monsters.” He replied. She looked at her feet, cheeks burning. Of course he would say that- all adults say that- but then what was that scary noise she heard in her room? It was definitely something. A monster’s creeping towards her bed. She looked over her shoulder, back down the hallway where she still couldn’t see her bedroom door. Maybe there was someone standing in front of it? Waiting for her to turn back?_

_Dark’s deep sigh had her looking back up at him. He was pinching the bridge of his nose and his eyes were shut._

_“I really should wake your father, but he’s finally sleeping. As should you be.” He said, and she just stared at him. It was true, her Daddy had a cold thathe said kept him from breathing properly when he laid down. It made sleeping hard, and she had gotten used to hearing him sniffling or watching TV in his bedroom at night instead. Tonight it was quiet, though._

_“Fine. Come here.” He beckoned her over, pushing away from his desk slightly. She was all too willing to enter a room she was never otherwise allowed into, her curiosity combined with her fear of staying in the hallway much longer._

_He leaned forward slightly in his chair as she came around the edge of the desk. She watched as he moved the papers on his desk back to their original places with one hand, revealing a rather shiny gun. She recognized it, of course, she had seen it many times before during Dark’s homecoming routine, it might have even been the same one he had the first time she met Anti. It took two quick movements for a rectangle to come out the bottom of the handle and a little bullet to come out of the top. Then he was holding it by the barrel, handle towards her._

_Her eyes darted from the gun to his face and back again._

_“Go ahead. It’s empty. This one time, you can hold it.” He kept his hand extended as her smaller one wrapped around it. She gasped a little at the weight, rushing to use two hands to support it even as his hand cupped the bottom of it. He used his thumb to keep the barrel pointed to the floor._

_“Has your father ever spoken to you about firearms?” She stared at him, eyebrows furrowing, “Guns. Has your father ever spoken to you about gun?” He amended. She nodded, slowly letting the heavy gun go. He set it back on the desk beside the magazine._

_“He said that they’re dangerous, and that they can hurt people really bad. And that you know how to be careful with them, that’s why you’re allowed to touch them. And that I’m not allowed because I’m too little.” She recited, and Dark’s eyebrow quirked. The corner of his lips twitched._

_“He’s right. Now, do you know what a promise is?” She nodded._

_“When you say you’re going to do something no matter what.”_

_“Very good. Emma, there’s nothing in this house that you need to be afraid of. Certainly not in your bedroom. And if there is, I promise that I will take care of it.” He said. She nodded slowly, letting her eyes sink from his dark ones to the pistol on the desk. She knew without further reassurance that Dark was telling the truth- after all, hadn’t he come rushing to help her when Anti scared her? With one of his guns, too. Surely if he could stop a scary man….he could stop a scary monster too._

_When her Daddy wasn’t there, anyway. No one was stronger than her Daddy._

_“Good. Now I think you should return to bed.” He said, turning back to his desk and picking up his pen. She tore her eyes away from the desk and walked as quietly as she could to the door, but she couldn’t make herself enter the hallway. Instead, she held onto the frame and peered out, repeating Dark’s promise over and over in her head even as she desperately willed herself to see in the pitch._

_Another deep sigh, a gulp, and the think clunk of a glass hitting the desk. She looked up just as Dark reached the doorway and passed her._

_“Come.”  
She followed him as he seemed to meld into the shadows in the hall, white dress shirt making him stand out a little. The hallway seemed a little less dark._

_She followed him to her bedroom and he held the door open wider for her. With the door open, her bedroom didn’t seem so dark anymore either. She clambered into bed and pulled the covers up to her chin._

_“Goodnight Emma. Sleep well.”_

_“Night night.”_

 

_If she had been older, or a more observant child, or perhaps less concerned with the monsters in the doorway, she might have noticed the tiny crimson stains dotting the wrist of Dark’s white dress shirt and the hem of his pants. Or perhaps she would have paid a little more attention to how much precipitation had leeched off the glass and onto Dark’s papers, a testament to how long it had been used that night. But she wasn’t, and she didn’t, so she had no idea of the work Dark had been doing earlier in the evening. She didn’t know how unusual it was these days for him to do the dirty work he normally delegated. What she did know was that Dark had made her a promise, and that she trusted him even though he wasn’t around all the time, because her Daddy trusted him._

_And so there were no more monsters in her room, or too much darkness, and she did sleep well._

_(and her Daddy never found out abouther holding the gun, or about the promise)._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2\. cont.) Okay so please do not take this as a statement of gun safety and children. This is by no means my personal belief on whether children should be allowed, or not allowed, to handle firearms and at what age etc. That is not what that scene is for. That scene is an interaction between two fictional characters in a situation where the fictional adult has morals adapted to a (sometimes violent) lifestyle.   
> Please don't make it more than that.


End file.
